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In 1986 the West Virginia Lottery was one of the biggest things the state had going for it.
Like a sports team, the lottery had a furry-faced mascot loved by kids and adults alike. People who got a chance to spin the state's lotto prize wheel got their photos on the front page of local papers almost every week, and their feats provided water-cooler fodder for days. The lottery's signature game show drew a crowd of 25,000 when it was the showcase affair at the Charleston Sternwheel Regatta.
Today, even the most devoted players buy Powerball tickets with little more enthusiasm than they pick up a gallon of milk. Winners sometimes don't find out they've come into a fortune until days after a drawing, when they happen to think to check winning numbers online.
Twenty years after its inception, the state lottery is no longer regarded by most as an awe-inspiring chance to change one's fortunes. Now, it's just another part of life in West Virginia.
Some people win, and some people lose.
The state Lottery Commission is spending the year celebrating two decades in business.
There are milestones in the agency's history that some think might be better forgotten, such as the trials and convictions of former lottery director Butch Bryan and former lottery attorney Ed ReBrook, who spent time in prison after they were accused of insider trading connected to the state's burgeoning video lottery business.
There also were the moments that marked the lottery's major successes. They highlighted the good things that proponents said would come from the little scratch-off tickets and prize drawings.
When Lewisburg grocer Roger Boone won a $24 million jackpot in 1995, he was able to bail out his struggling business, one he said had almost been undone by an employee's embezzling. Years later when his store burned to the ground, Boone's lottery wealth allowed him to keep paying employees who were off work for months while the business was being rebuilt.
Some winners became media-shy millionaires whose newfound wealth provided welcome relief to them and their communities. Others went into a tailspin of sought-after or unwanted publicity and a flurry of unchecked spending.
Lottery games have allowed the state to flourish -- or at least stay above water -- in ways that might not have been likely otherwise. But the lottery also has changed the financial landscape of West Virginia and spurred controversy over how much of the economy here should be grounded on gambling revenue.
The early days
People who helped get the lottery off the ground in the early 1980s and turned it into a full-fledged industry remember that even the highest expectations were anything but accurate.
"The proponents of the lottery were running around exclaiming over the fact the state could earn as much as $8 million a year," said Nancy Bulla, a spokeswoman for the lottery who has been with the agency since it began. "Our first real news headline was that we'd handed over $20 million. And that was after six months. No one had any idea what it would become."
After 18 months of sales, ticket revenue amounted to $70 million, and the state's coffers swelled by $28 million after it received its cut. All the money went into the state's general revenue fund, which was about $1 billion at the time.
"It was a drop in the bucket," Bulla said. "I'd get calls from people who knew Pennsylvania had a lottery and that people in Pennsylvania had free bus rides (public transportation). They wanted to know why the lottery didn't pay for that here. My standard response was that the lottery was never intended to be a cure-all. It was just a contributor."
This year, the state's budget has grown to $10 billion, and its share of lottery revenue this year amounted to an estimated $446 million, with $89 million set aside to help offset deficits in the teachers' retirement system and for other legislative appropriations.
The lottery now provides the third-largest source of state revenue, right after sales and personal property taxes.
Starting from scratch
When it was beginning, the lottery's bread and butter were the scratch-off tickets that could, in seconds, put thousands of dollars in a player's pocket.
Each time a new game was unveiled -- there were nine introduced the first year alone -- it was a big deal.
Games such as "The Sky's the Limit," "3-of-a-Kind" and "Surprise Package" became huge hits.
On the first day tickets were sold, lottery receipts totaled $1.5 million.
It would be seven years before video lottery would be legalized at the state's racetracks and more than 15 years before gray machines, as they were called, would be acceptable in convenience stores, bars or pretty much anywhere that would pay for a license to lease video slots from the state.
What kept customers clamoring in 1986 were the scratch-off tickets, and the lottery's weekly Grand Prize Show televised by WSAZ-TV.
West Virginia's version of "The Price is Right," the show's premise was simple, but for five years it was a favorite of in-state viewers.
The lottery drew the names of a handful of players each week from those who sent in thousands of scratch-off tickets from around the state. Winners were brought by bus to the studio in Charleston to take their turn spinning a wheel for a chance to rack up more money.
The tears and hysterics often displayed during tapings made some people look more like they'd been pulled on stage at a rock concert.
"At the time, it was all very exciting," said Rex Roberts, a former lottery employee. "When we'd meet the buses you could see people coming from these little places around the state I had never heard of. It was such a big deal back then for them to get a trip to Charleston. Everybody was very enthused."
Roberts now works the information window at Tri-State Racetrack and Gaming Center.
In 1987, he had a very different job, donning a cartoon-like grizzly suit as the lottery's official mascot, Jackpot Bear.
Roberts toured with state officials for every important press conference and announcement during the lottery's first five years.
Once a week he would help host the Grand Prize show.
"I think they should still do things like that," Roberts said recently. "People loved to come and watch, and it really got people interested in what was going on. Everything now, the games, it's just on paper, and it's not the same."
The TV show almost crashed during the height of its popularity.
Part of WSAZ's studios burned down in 1988, leaving the lottery without a stage or equipment for the game to go on.
Pennsylvania lottery officials, who had a similar show, were quick to step in with aid, hauling down an extra wheel for West Virginia to use.
The growth of lotteries
Nationwide, states were starting to see lotteries as a possible solution to financial strains.
George Manahan, now owner of one of Charleston's largest advertising and public relations firms, was a reporter for MetroNews in 1986, covering the lottery's creation and evolution.
"Covering the passage of the legislation, watching them getting it up and running and the conflicts that occurred, between the church groups, between the politicians, it was so interesting," Manahan said. "What we see today, the fight over gambling, it's similar, but the tone has escalated."
Manahan became part of the story in 1986 when, during the lottery's first charity game, he scratched off more instant tickets than anybody else ever had, earning him the promise of a spot in the Guinness Book of World Records.
His name never actually ended up in the book; somebody beat his record prior to that year's publication.
During a Grand Prize Show, he won $10,000 for West Virginia flood relief.
"It was a small studio, and we were crammed in there with a lot of people," Manahan recalls. "It was new for everybody and people were just so excited. Anybody who got to do it, it actually was a cool thing."
Hundreds of people eventually got to spin that prize wheel before the show went off the air and the lottery moved on to bigger ventures.
The winners
Before Powerball winner Jack Whittaker made international news in 2002 with his record-setting $340 million win and the tragedies in his life that followed, there were other big winners who helped lay the foundation for the public's interest in the lottery.
Many winners appeared to prefer staying out of the spotlight.
Of a dozen or so people who won jackpots or even big scratch-off prizes during the lottery's first couple of years, only a few responded to requests to talk by phone about their winnings.
Russell Husk, the Grand Prize Show's first winner, still lives in Wood County. He has refused any sort of public attention over his win, and he has no intention of changing his ways now to tell the story of how his $3.7 million did or didn't change his life.
Beckley's Grace Clifford, who won a $1.5 million jackpot on one of the early Grand Prize shows, now lives in Virginia with her daughter. She's going to turn 93 soon. Family members didn't think she'd want to talk about her past lottery luck.
Joseph Settimio of Follansbee, who scored a $250,000 win in 1986, seemed surprised anybody was interested in him once hitting the jackpot.
He said his appearance on an early prize show didn't make him an instant celebrity around his town, and he didn't try to hard to repeat his luck.
"I ran out of money, so I quit buying," Settimio said. It was hard to tell if he was joking.
"Most of the time, people were very humble and they really didn't want a lot of attention," said Bulla, who helps coordinate press briefings for lottery winners. "The money usually doesn't change people. They're the same people after that they were before, whether that's a good thing or not."
Can the same be said for the state?
Reliance on lottery revenue
Lottery director John Musgrave, who's been at the helm longer than any previous director, said lotto officials have tried to steer public leaders away from depending on lottery revenue to keep the state's budget in the clear.
But the pot of money is there, and it's hard to ignore.
The lottery now is faced with the challenge of how to keep that pot growing.
Scratch-off tickets just don't cut it anymore. Keno isn't enough. The fight over whether to add table games at the state's racetracks and casinos looks likely to continue, at least for a few years.
"We've in West Virginia sort of been on the cutting edge of what's happened with the lottery nationwide," Musgrave said. "We've had all the games, and we had a lot of them first. West Virginia has been on the forefront. Other than table games, there's already talk of what else to do for the future. None of us are quite clear on what that will bring."
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